


Poor Taste

by NortheasternWind



Series: Poor Taste [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Humor, Jack Trying and Failing To Maintain Professionalism When It Comes To Enemies, M/M, Pre-Canon, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NortheasternWind/pseuds/NortheasternWind
Summary: After a run-in with the mysterious mercenary named Reaper, the Strike Commander has an… uncomfortable conversation with Gabe. Gabe thinks he is prepared and discovers that he most definitely is not.





	Poor Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a prequel to Solrika's [The Height of Irresponsibility](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11042928) THANK YOU LOVELY ILU I'M FAIRLY CERTAIN YOU'VE PUT MORE WORK INTO THIS THAN I HAVE! If you want porn of this that's where to look hehehehe. I don't know how much energy I have to squeeze actual writing out of this but if anything it'll probably be a small drabble series. does it count as dramatic irony if the POV character also knows what's going on

“Gabe.”

Gabriel looked up, taking in Jack’s appearance before answering. He was, as expected, none the worse for wear considering Gabriel had clobbered him over the head with a shotgun earlier, and though he seemed a little stiff his run-in with “Reaper” didn’t appear to have shaken him too badly.

“Oh boy,” Gabriel drawled, looking back down at his datapad with a smile. “You look tense. Should I be bracing for more bad news?”

When Jack didn’t answer Gabriel looked up again. He looked uncertain about something, but seemed to make a decision and regained his composure shortly. “Not exactly. Can I come in?”

“Be my guest.” Gabriel gestured off to the side, figuring it’d be rude to make Jack sit across from him at the desk. “This a personal or professional call?”

Jack took the hint, stepping inside and dragging the chair over to sit on Gabriel’s side of the desk. “An unfortunate mix of both, actually.”

“Bringing work home?”

“We ran into the mercenary Reaper in the field the other day.”

Gabriel looked at him sharply, suddenly uncertain of the direction this was heading. “I thought he was in South America.”

“Apparently not. Everyone’s fine, before you ask, but there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Gabriel didn’t put the datapad down: giving Jack his full attention would make lying on the fly harder. “Shoot.”

Jack again failed to answer, and Gabriel was forced to look up at him again. He was tapping his thumb and middle finger together, a nervous tic he generally managed to restrain in public, and frowning out the window instead of looking at Gabriel. As far as Gabriel could see the chances of this conversation remaining innocuous were dropping very quickly.

“Did… you fuck something up?” he ventured.

“Not yet,” Jack said gruffly. “But I do see terrible decisions in my future. Listen,” he went on, “I know this is ridiculous, and that’s why I’m talking to you about it, get it?”

“Keep beating around the bush like this and we’re not going to get much talking done, Jack.”

Jack groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I’m… Okay, listen,” he said again. “Reaper has no business being so attractive for a homicidal terrorist.”

Gabriel’s heart leaped into his throat. He had definitely heard that wrong. “What?”

“I can’t control it, alright?” Jack said, mistaking the source of Gabriel’s incredulity. “Do you want to hear me wax poetic about it or are you just going to believe me and help?”

Gabriel had every intention of rejecting Jack’s offer to stroke his ego, but the question he ended up asking wasn’t much better: “Doesn’t Reaper… you know, wear a mask?”

“The mask doesn’t hide his figure,” Jack retorted. “Or his thighs, or his biceps, or how good he looks holding a shotgun. Fuck.”

Gabriel tried to crack a teasing smile, but all he could do was sputter in disbelief. “That… does sound like a problem. But it can’t be any worse than all the other attractive criminals we round up regularly, can it?”

“Few of the other criminals we round up are competent.” Jack rubbed his face. “Turns out I have a combat fetish. Go figure.”

There was nothing for Gabriel to do but stare, heart pounding. Here Jack was openly admitting to finding him attractive, which he should ostensibly have been very happy about—except that meant Jack had spent enough time admiring Reaper to see the resemblance between the mercenary and his best friend. Shit.

“Listen,” Jack said for the third time. “I don’t get it either, but I don’t have to. I just have to manage it.”

“I can take on the investigation if you’re concerned,” Gabriel said, perhaps a little too quickly. “But I’d like to think better of your self-control than that.”

“It’s less a matter of self-control and more a matter of sense and security. Every rumor you’ve heard about Reaper’s skill and cunning is true, Gabe; right now the only one who knows about this is you, but if he finds out somehow I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

“Probably a good idea.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair. Jack probably expected him to make a wisecrack about his poor taste in men, but that ran the risk of drawing attention where Gabriel couldn’t afford it. “Leave it to me.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, sounding relieved. “I’m sorry for pushing this on you when you already do so much.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Gabriel said sincerely. The opposite of a problem, really. “Just know I’m going to remember this if you come around poking for details about him. Like his whereabouts.”

To Gabriel’s enormous relief, Jack chuckled. “That’s fair. But watch yourself, you hear? We took him all on at once and he had half of us out like logs. He’s not someone you want to underestimate.”

“Noted.” Gabriel looked down at his forgotten datapad. What a turn this had taken. “Thanks for talking, Jack.”

“Thanks for listening.” Jack stood up. “I’ll get you Reaper’s file and leave you to it, then. Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”

“You’re the one who needs to visit more often,” Gabriel retorted, but with a smile. “I’ll see you later, Jack.”

* * *

Later, Gabe will wonder why Jack finds “Reaper” attractive and not him. Either he really does have a bad boy fetish like he’d claimed, or there was something in Gabriel’s personality that put him off. Ugh, this would be keeping him awake at night for months…

(What Gabe can’t know is that the only reason Jack paid Reaper’s appearance more than a passing thought was that he had noticed the resemblance; the same curves, the same confidence, the same careless grace he’d been daydreaming about for years. But Gabriel’s friendship was too precious to even think about risking in pursuit of something else, and getting laid with Reaper honestly seemed like the more likely option—hence the caution.

It’s safer this way, Jack thinks. He would never let himself be seduced by someone out to kill his best friend.)


End file.
